


Read Me (Like a Book)

by wilderswans



Series: Widomauk 30 Day NSFW Challenge [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: As far as I'm concerned Episode 26 didn't happen, Blow Jobs, Bookstores, Caleb cheers him up, Caleb is full of surprises, Feelings, M/M, Molly is full of gross feelings, Molly is in a bad mood, Public Blow Jobs, backstory-related anger/angst, this is pretty much canon divergence at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 19:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15298539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilderswans/pseuds/wilderswans
Summary: Molly’s in a mood, and he’s absolutely being an adult about this, but it’s that fucking Tabaxi’s fault.(Day 5 of the 30 Day NSFW OTP challenge: Blow Job)





	Read Me (Like a Book)

**Author's Note:**

> Set a bit after Bugbear Day; their relationship dynamic in this series makes the most sense if read in order.  
> I apologize for any errors in spelling or grammar - I'm posting this under the influence of sleep deprivation and a nasty headache, so I may not have caught any errors looking over it before posting. Sorry!
> 
> As always, you have my sincere thanks for taking the time to read and leave kudos/comments if you feel so inclined :)

Molly is willing to admit when he’s in a bit of a mood. In the circus, when everyone is living in each other’s pockets, it simply doesn’t do to be subtle whenever you’re cranky because inevitably, everyone else will manage to do all the things that are guaranteed to piss you off even further, one right after the other. No, it’s simply better to announce you’re in a bit of a mood, to admit it to yourself and the world at large, and save yourself several wounded feelings and the unpleasantness of apologies later on.

Molly’s in a mood, and he’s absolutely being an adult about this, but it’s that fucking Tabaxi’s fault.

Collectively the Nein had decided to avoid any major thoroughfares that’d cause them to cross paths with Empire troops on the march, when winding their way back to Zadash. The result of this was that they were all a little footsore and ready for a brief respite. Last night they’d rolled into town far after dark, and while the inn they’re staying at isn’t the Pillow Trove, the food is good, the beds are soft, and most importantly, the bar is extremely well-stocked. This morning they’d ventured off, more well-rested than they’d been in weeks, to the Evening Nip to check in with the Gentleman about the business done abroad on his behalf.

Molly’s coin purse is considerably heavier now, but even that isn’t enough to brighten his mood by much. The Tabaxi - Cree - had called him Lucien again, given him another embrace, wanted very much to talk about the past before the Gentleman called the Nein over, and Molly can still feel the heavy weight of pretending to be someone he’s notlingering over him hours later.

“Mollyyyyyy.” Jester’s voice snaps him out of his internal grumbling. She’s trotting along next to his side, patting his elbow before linking her arm with his. As a group they’re walking back to the Pentamarket, the weight of new coins in their coffers beckoning. The morning is cold, and the air smells of baking bread and chimney smoke.

“Yes darling?” 

“You look so _grumpy_ ,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “You’re frowning so much.”

“That is because I am, in fact, a little miffed,” Molly says. No point beating around the bush. “But not at any of you.”

The cleric visibly brightens at that. “Oh, good,” she said. “I was worried one of us had done something and you were going to frown so much your face would stick like that forever.” She makes an exaggerated frowny face, to emphasize her point. Molly can’t help but laugh.

“I dunno, might be an improvement,” Beau says, from a few feet ahead.

“I lied,” Molly says automatically, “I’m miffed at you all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s mutual, pal,” Beau says, rolling her eyes. “Hey, who wants to go to Pumat’s?”

Molly does not want to go to Pumat’s. Molly really just wants to hole up with a bottle of something expensive and sit this sulk out. Fucking Cree, fucking _Lucien_ -

“Ah, if you could purchase some ink and paper for me, I would be very grateful,” Caleb’s saying to Beau. He rummages in his coin purse, Molly can hear the jingle of enough coin to buy an entire tree’s worth of fine paper as it exchanges hands.

“Any particular color?” she asks, pocketing the extra money. “I think last time we were there Pumat said something about a silver ink coming in soon -”

“No, _danke_ , just black,” Caleb says. “Nott, are you going to Pumat’s with them?”

The little goblin shakes her head. “Jester and Yasha and I are going to do - what was it?”

“Mani-pedis!” Jester supplies. She bounces a little in place, practically radiating excitement. “Last time we were here I saw this little salon I wanted to go to - they even offer foot massages!”

“I’ll be casting Disguise Self,” Nott says quickly, because Caleb immediately looks concerned. If he were in any other mood, Molly would want to invite himself along just to watch the salon attendant’s face when Yasha walks into the room and plunks her massive feet down for some pampering.

“Have fun,” Caleb says, patting Nott’s head affectionately when she gives him a little hug, before darting off to join Jester and Yasha.

For a brief moment Yasha catches Molly’s eye as they turn to walk down the main avenue, questioning. He shakes his head, and she nods in understanding before turning back to Jester and Nott. He kind of adores her.

“Well, are you coming with us to Pumat’s?” Fjord offers. “Some shoppin’ might put you back into a good mood.”

Molly opens his mouth to decline the offer of rampant materialism as an emotional balm, but Caleb speaks first.

“Molly and I are going to check out a bookstore I heard about,” he says. Molly turns to him at the same time Beau raises an eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest.

“Aw man, really? I thought you and I were going to try the Cobalt Soul archives later,” she says. Caleb looks nonplussed.

“ _Ja_ , and there are different kinds of books in bookstores than in libraries,” he says sensibly, rocking back on his heels. Beau rolls her eyes.

“Good luck on your smut quest, then,” she says, turning and peeling off in the direction of Pumat’s. Fjord lingers for a moment, an uncharacteristic color to his cheeks. He seems to be avoiding Caleb’s eyes.

“If there’s, uhh,” he says, a shade under his breath, and then clears his throat. “If there’s a sequel to _Tusk Love_ , let me know, but don’t mention it to Jester.”

“ _Ja_ , _ja_ , you have my word of silence,” Caleb says. Any other day Molly would rib Fjord mercilessly, but as it is he’s rather irritated with Caleb for dragging him on a quest into yet another dusty old bookshop when he’d much rather....he doesn’t know. Drink? Fuck? Get an ill-advised tattoo? Anything to remind him that he’s still _him_ , in this body, in the present.

Fjord follows after Beau, leaving Caleb and Molly standing side by side in the bustling Pentamarket. Molly watches their retreating forms for a moment before he’s sharply distracted by Caleb patting his cheek.

“ _Komm mit_ ,” Caleb says, turning west of the market, and the words are close enough to Common that Molly knows the gist of the request - and even if they weren’t, he’d know it from the vaguely commanding tone Caleb has. He blinks and follows, trying not to grimace.

“Ah, Caleb,” he says, following the wizard down the street, much like Frumpkin trotting along at his heels. “I do enjoy spending time with you, but a bookstore isn’t necessarily -”

Caleb glances over his shoulder. “You will like this bookstore,” he says. Molly blinks again.

“Then why am I not especially reassured?” he mutters. He thinks he hears a soft exhale of laughter from ahead of him, but it could be anything in the street they’re walking down.

Caleb ends up leading him just to the outskirts of the market district, stopping in front of a door set so crookedly into the wall Molly is surprised that it actually swings open when Caleb pulls the handle. He enters first, Molly following close behind, trying to keep his foul mood at bay while wondering what, exactly, Caleb is leading him into.

It’s a bookshop, but not like any bookshop Molly’s ever seen before. Unlike the neat, clean aisles of the smutty bookstore in the Tri-Spire district, this one is almost falling in on itself. Molly suspects the low ceiling is halfway propped up by the stacks of books that are piled high, taller even than Yasha. There are books _everywhere_ \- they spill off the shelves into crates on the floor, and out of those crates into little haphazard piles here and there on the creaky wooden floor. The air is pungent with that peculiar old paper smell, and something Molly suspects is cat, mildew, or both.

“Caleb,” Molly says, low, but Caleb just breezes into the bookstore, raising a hand in greeting to the shopkeep, an older half-elf sitting behind the counter and sipping at a cup of tea, nose deep in a yellow-paged tome.

“Hallo,” says Caleb. The shopkeep scarcely looks up at them, but points to a sign written in Common next to the till: _**Do Not Disturb the Shopkeeper.**_

Molly, rather against his will, finds he admires and respects the shopkeeper. He’s beginning to suspect this is less of a bookshop, running with the express purpose of selling wares, and more of a personal collection running under the guise of a business. Caleb bites his lower lip and, much to Molly’s surprise, takes him by the hand and pulls him back into the stacks.

The shop goes on and on, so far back that Molly thinks there must be some sort of enchantment on the building. Entire rooms branch off haphazardly from the main stretch of the shop, each stuffed beyond capacity with books and one, from the glimpse Molly gets of it, with maps.

What’s even more shocking, beyond the bookstore’s seemingly endless boundaries, is the fact that Caleb is not stopping to examine any of the tantalizing titles visible on any of the shelves.

“Caleb,” Molly tries again, when Caleb pulls him between two rows of shelves. They finally stop walking. On the shelf behind Caleb Molly can see a heavy, leatherbound book with the title _Plagues of the Realm: A Brief History of Dwendallian Epidemics_ stamped on the spine before Caleb steps closer, until he’s the only thing that Molly can see. Despite his confusion and irritation, Molly’s interest is piqued. “What’s going on?”

“You are in a bad mood,” Caleb says. Molly tries not to roll his eyes, but before he can ask anything further Caleb continues, cheeks going a little pink beneath his scruff, “And I would like to do something about it.”

“As much as I appreciate the gesture,” Molly says, trying to prevent his irritation from creeping into his voice, “bookstores are a bit more of a pick-me-up for you than for me.”

Something in Caleb’s eyes shifts and for a second, Molly is afraid he’s offended Caleb, or upset him by shooting down his idea to cheer Molly up. Then Caleb tilts his chin up to look Molly square in the eyes, and he has to swallow, mouth suddenly dry. Caleb is not offended or upset at all. No - there is something bold and incredibly focused in his gaze.

“I did not bring you here to buy books, Mollymauk,” Caleb says, voice low, before sinking to his knees.

 _Oh_ , Molly realizes, feeling very faint all of a sudden.

Caleb’s eyes are still locked onto his, and it’s overwhelming, suddenly, to be in the middle of a cramped bookstore aisle with that intense gaze focused on him and him alone. None of the hundreds of books around them have drawn Caleb’s attention thus far. It’s rather astounding, and if Molly’s higher faculties hadn’t just flown straight out the window at the sight of Caleb on his knees, he’d want to worry about Caleb acting so peculiar.

Caleb doesn’t waste any time, reaching up with nimble fingers to start undoing the buckles of Molly’s belt. The metal clinks softly in the relative quiet of the bookstore, and Molly realizes he’s been holding his breath since Caleb got to his knees. Inside, he feels hot and cold and a little shivery in anticipation as Caleb deftly undoes the buttons on his trousers.

It goes without saying that Molly is in the process of getting very, very hard. He has to close his eyes, try to school himself into some semblance of control.

“Caleb,” he says, and is immediately amazed at how weak his voice sounds. He tries to clear his throat without drawing the attention of the shopkeeper, who suddenly seems as if they’re mere feet away, not separated by aisles and aisles of shelves and stacks of books across the building. “Caleb, are you sure --”

Caleb just gives him a very unimpressed look, a look that says _of course I am you dipshit why else would I be down here_ , but that might just be Molly projecting, before he pulls Molly out of his trousers and wraps a hand around him. Instantly Molly feels like his knees are about to give out beneath him.

With a few quick, efficient strokes Caleb brings Molly to full hardness. As if transfixed, unable to look away, Molly can only watch as Caleb shuffles closer and brings his palms up to rest on Molly’s hips. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, he glances at Molly’s dick, bobbing purple and in very close proximity to his face, then back up at Molly’s face. Any hesitation Molly would expect to see is conspicuously absent - there is only heat, and resolve.

Then Caleb closes his eyes, leans in, and presses a lush kiss to the dark head of Molly’s cock.

There’s no other word for it - it’s electrifying. Molly bites his lower lip savagely, afraid to even breathe for fear of letting out an embarassing noise. Caleb kisses him again, then - Gods above - gives a little kittenish lick to the slit. Molly thinks he hears a faint hum of approval, as if Caleb’s made the decision that yes, he likes this, before he wraps his lips around the flushed head.

Molly doesn’t know what to do, or what to think, or if he’s even capable of thinking. His breath leaves him in a shuddering exhale when Caleb’s mouth loosens around him, tongue slick against the underside as he presses forward. For a second Molly wonders if he’s going to try to take the entire thing, before Caleb draws back and releases him momentarily.

His lips are spit-shiny and reddened as he murmurs, “You can put your hands in my hair, if you like,” before sinking back down on Molly’s cock. Molly’s hands have been clenching, ineffectual, at his sides since this whole process began; now with some hesitation he rests them carefully on Caleb’s crown and experimentally winds his fingers in the auburn strands. Caleb hums, low in approval around Molly’s cock and the heady vibration of it makes Molly curl his fingers tighter.

Exhaling through his nose in a measured breath, Caleb closes his eyes and slides his mouth a few more inches down Molly’s length, mouth lax, everything about him pliable and sweet under Molly’s hands. Molly can’t help it, his hips twitch forward against Caleb’s face. His thighs are tense from holding himself back, and for a moment Molly almost forgets himself, before he drags in a breath and remembers how impolite it would be to yank Caleb forward to meet the thrust of his hips. He can’t scare Caleb off by face-fucking him in a bookstore, it would be intolerably rude, and besides - now that he knows the heat of Caleb’s mouth around him, the barely-there moans he makes around Molly’s flesh, Molly definitely does not want to scare him away from this.

Then Caleb begins to bob his head, fingers curling into the curve of Molly’s hips, and all coherent thought flies out of Molly’s head when he realize Caleb _wants_ a rhythm, wants some sort of direction. Cursing under his breath, Molly yields and allows himself an aborted thrust. Caleb takes it, doesn’t gag, but Molly can feel Caleb’s mouth flood with saliva that he attempts to swallow around his cock. His eyes roll back in his head, he has to shut them against the wash of pleasure.

He doesn’t last nearly as long as he would like to, but given the circumstances, that’s pretty fucking understandable. Caleb’s hands guide the action of Molly’s hips, encouraging a smooth, shallow series of thrusts, as he curls his tongue along the underside of Molly’s dick. Molly has to risk a look down - he can’t help himself. The look of concentration on Caleb’s face nearly does him in, eyes shut and mouth sweetly yielding to him, but there’s that little wrinkle between his brows that tells Molly Caleb is comitting all of this to that perfect memory - the motion of his hips, the taste of him, the shuddering breath Molly tries to keep from being too loud in the quiet bookstore.

Gods above. Caleb is going to remember this forever.

Caleb is going to remember blowing one Mollymauk Tealeaf in an enormous used bookstore _forever_ , Molly realizes, and that wave of pleasure crests upon him. He only manages to tighten his grip in Caleb’s hair as warning, doesn’t trust himself not to yell if he manages to come up with any words to speak at all - then he’s coming so hard his knees actually do buckle, curling over Caleb’s kneeling form as he shakes and gasps.

The air between them is humid, Caleb mostly drawn between the panels of Molly’s coat as the tiefling tries to catch his breath. Caleb swallows around him and pulls away, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his coat, and Molly doesn’t miss the little grimace he makes. For some reason, shaky with orgasm as he still is, it strikes him as ridiculously endearing. He releases Caleb’s hair and starts coaxing him to stand, tugging on the lapels of his coat.

“Darling, you didn’t have to swallow,” he says in a chiding murmur, and leans in to kiss Caleb before he can respond. Leftover shreds of pleasure curl, warm, in his gut when Caleb’s lips part for him, and he can taste his own spend on Caleb’s tongue. He pulls Caleb closer, chasing the kiss deeper, until at last Caleb has to step away, shaking his head.

“I was not going to spit in a bookstore,” he says, and Molly laughs. “It was not...bad,” he admits. “Not my favorite, but...”

“We’ve all had worse things in our mouths,” says Molly, giving him another peck on the lips. Caleb flushes, looking down at the floor, before Molly follows his gaze and realizes -

“Would you like me to take care of you?” he asks softly. Caleb is hard against his trousers, and his hips jerk when Molly traces the strained fabric with a fingernail, but he shakes his head.

“ _Nein_ ,” he says firmly, though his tone is somewhat strained. “No - this is about you, Mollymauk. Not me.”

Molly freezes in place, as still as if he had been hit with a stunning blow. Caleb must find his sudden silence awkward, because a look of panic crosses his face. “That is - you were in a very bad mood. The past is a bad place to be, usually, and I - I thought this would be a good way of reminding you to stay in the present, but if you did not like it - if it was too much -”

Molly has to save Caleb from himself and shut him up by kissing him again. His chest feels all aglow as, under his touch, Caleb relaxes a hair. He hopes Caleb doesn’t kiss with his eyes open, because he is definitely resisting the tears that want to pop into the corners of his eyes and doesn’t know if he can live it down if Caleb sees them.

“You,” he says, punctuating it with yet another kiss. “Are a fuckin’ treasure. I liked it, Caleb. I liked it _very_ much.” The corners of Caleb’s mouth twitch upwards, and the whole thing is so endearing Molly has to kiss him again. “Consider my bad mood cured.”

“That easy?” Caleb says, definitely trying not to smile this time. “I will remember this, for the future. I was even going to buy you some expensive alcohol when we got back to the inn.”

“The day is still young,” Molly says, smirking. If they’re heading back to the inn, he thinks, he would definitely like to get his hands all over Caleb again before they imbibe too much.

They pull themselves together, Molly tucking himself back into his pants and doing up his belts again as, predictably, Caleb gets thoroughly sidetracked by the books. Molly trails him around the bookstore, gazing with mild interest at some of the titles that Caleb pours over, rapturous. He’s surprised to find that his foul mood has been totally dispelled - he’s not even impatient with the notion of following the Nein's resident bookworm around this cramped and dusty shop any more.

Of course, that might have something to do with the way Caleb’s hand seeks his as they duck into one of the little side rooms, fingers entwining as he pulls him, with unbridled excitement, to a shelf stuffed to capacity with bestiaries and histories of nefarious spellcasters.

Molly feels it like some sort of pit opening beneath him in the floorboards, after the way Caleb squeezes his hand before pouncing on the nearest tome. It is enormous and inevitable and the realization of it freezes him into place, heart thumping and the back of his neck growing incredibly hot as he watches the wizard flip a page, completely focused on something that is not Molly and his own private little meltdown.

He is absolutely, unfortunately, undeniably in love with Caleb Widogast.

**Author's Note:**

> (I don't have the time or mental capacity to write about Nott, Jester, and Yasha getting mani-pedis but boy do i want to read it.)  
> thanks again for reading ♥


End file.
